


Reign

by olived



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, References to Reign (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-09-15 20:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9256019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olived/pseuds/olived
Summary: In the hopes of securing a political marriage for Morgana, Uther invites a number of foreign dignitaries to Camelot, including the charming Prince Urion of Anglia. However, the Anglian prince is not all he appears, and with Merlin's magic preoccupied healing a grievous wound, Camelot is left virtually unprotected from the prince's schemes.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Gwen, Morgana, Uther, Urion (OMC, but Morgan le Fey's husband in the legends.)  
> Pairings: none.  
> Rating: T for safety.  
> Warnings: blood, violence. Will update.  
> Summary: In the hopes of securing a political marriage for Morgana, Uther invites a number of foreign dignitaries to Camelot, including the charming Prince Urion of Anglia. However, the Anglian prince is not all he appears, and with Merlin's magic preoccupied healing a grievous wound, Camelot is left virtually unprotected from the prince's schemes.

Merlin was, to be frank, absolutely exhausted.  
This fact was not extraordinary; in fact, it was rather becoming the norm. This occasion simply proved to be one of exceptional exhaustion, in which Merlin was notably more tired, a feat he had not believed possible. Since arriving at Camelot, the warlock had grown used to a constant state of weariness, due to the man's position as servant to his royal pratness, his apprenticeship to Gaius, and his saving the entirety of the kingdom from complete devastation. The kingdom now, however, was in a rare state of peace. Good harvest allowed for a generally healthier population, permitting Gaius to enable some leniency with his duties. Arthur, of course, was being his usual dollop-y self, but Merlin expected nothing less from the man. All this considering, Merlin should have been expecting a restful and peace-filled break from the constant chaos of Camelot. The gangly servant knew, though, that current events would not act in favor of a rest-deprived manservant.  
The castle was aflame in its energy, pulsating and burning and threatening and enlightening its inhabitants, of which there were a notable few more than any typical time of year. Yet this was no typical time; this was a new time for Camelot's future. King Uther knew the importance securing powerful alliances for Camelot as well as a fair companion for his ward, both of which were easily remedied with one solution: a political marriage. The king invited potential suitors from across Albion to interview for the possibility of marrying the ward of Uther Pendragon, an invitation not refused by a single suitor. Merlin would know – he wrote the list.  
This in itself was of little consequence to Merlin – he knew Morgana would not hesitate to challenge Uther should he decide against her will. Arthur was tense and more curt than usual, but this was, again, not unexpected.  
The issue lay with his magic.  
"Forbaerne," Merlin said, staring intently at an unlit candle atop the table. The wick twitched, but did not light.  
"Forbaerne!" he insisted.  
Gaius put on an amused sigh. "Merlin, you have been staring at that candle for nearly an hour now. If it was to light with the heat from your gaze it would have, but unfortunately it refuses to do so."  
"It's been like this for nearly a month, Gaius," Merlin stated. (Not whined. All-powerful warlocks do not whine, they simply state. He stated. He did not whine.)  
Gaius puttered closer to the table, bringing with him a number of clinking vials. "I am sympathetic toward your plight, Merlin, honestly I am. But your magic is preoccupied right now, and rightly so. You must heal."  
"Gaius," Merlin groaned.  
Gaius spoke sharply. "You almost died, Merlin."  
Merlin could feel the eyebrow burning through his head. The serving boy rolled his eyes, airily saying, "I know that Gaius. Trust me, I was there."  
"Then you must also understand that your magic will be too busy trying to heal that sword wound in your side," Gaius persisted.  
"Yes, I know, you've told me all this before," Merlin said impatiently, propping his chin upon his palm. "Stab wound, almost dies, magic heals, et cetera, et cetera. The question is, why isn't my magic working, and when will it work again?"  
Gaius stared at the raven haired boy, unimpressed. "I do not appreciate your tone, Merlin. Perhaps I ought to tell Arthur that you are unfit for duty. That George fellow seems keen to step in."  
Gaius was not serious, naturally. Simply put off. His ward seemed to be constantly feuding with Arthur for the title of 'most willing to die for the other,' a competition with irked Gaius to no end. Despite their, admittedly entertaining, bickering and near-constant displeasure with the other, Merlin and Arthur were both infuriatingly prepared to sacrifice himself for the other. Two sides of the same coin, indeed.

When it happened, Gaius was doing his rounds, delivering potions to his patients around the citadel. He would normally ask Merlin to do so on his way to the kitchens, but Arthur was to go patrolling that morning, and thus Merlin was to accompany. It was quite a good trade off, Gaius thought, having Merlin as an apprentice. The man was no genius with herbs or healing, but he thrived on learning and, despite his complaints, truly did enjoy acting as the physician's assistant. Each morning he would stop by Gaius's patient quarters on the way to the kitchens to pick up Arthur's breakfast, and he would pick herbs on the fourth night of every week, when Arthur allowed him leave four hours early. It was fair compensation for room and board, though Gaius would have no problem if he stayed without an apprenticeship.  
So caught in his musings, Gaius was almost upon the quarters of the Lady Ralforne before he noticed the young serving boy running at him. The boy skidded to a stop, both hands stretched to stop Gaius's rounds, and he just managed to wheeze a few key phrases. "The knights – ambushed – your chambers – "  
Barely managing to suppress a swear, Gaius quickly collected his thoughts. He ordered the boy to deliver Ralforne's potion and set off at his fastest hobble in the direction of his chambers. Much as he wished to testify to the contrary, Gaius was' quite used to this sort of scenario. The bandits outside Camelot city were growing bolder and more restless, and though the patrols were to discourage attacks, they often leaded to confrontation between knights and vagabonds. Wounds were not uncommon. Deaths were not either.  
Gaius had hardly turned the corner before he was greeted with the anxious face of Sir Leon. "Gaius!" the knight exclaimed, relief filling his voice. "Arthur, it's Gaius, he's coming," Leon shouted down the hall, anxiously wiping red-stained hands on his tunic. Parts of his red tunic were painted burgundy.  
"What's happened?" Gaius asked.  
"We were on patrol. There were rumors of a Druid tribe close to the city's western border, so we were looking there, but we were ambushed, sire. Bandits. They planted the information to lure us out. They wanted to kill Arthur, Uther's only heir, as penance for the Great Purge."  
"They were unsuccessful, I presume?"  
"Barely," Leon agreed. "That's how he got hurt, though."  
Gaius hummed. It was a familiar song, after all: kill Arthur for revenge on Uther, destroy the Pendragon dynasty, repeat. This would not be the last time an event of this sort came around, nor was it always for the same reason, but the important bit was that Arthur survived. After all, the prince had many a scar from these assassination plots. What's another?  
This mindset, therefore, came to his great disadvantage upon entering the chambers.  
"Gaius," Arthur breathed, pain upon his features. The prince was covered in blood, valiantly scrambling for more bandages from the pile on the table as they soaked with blood far too quickly. The other knights hadn't the faintest clue what to do with themselves, standing against the walls with half-embarrassed, half-harassed expressions, as though praying to be sucked into the stone. It was not Arthur who was injured, however. It was Merlin.  
"There was a bandit," Arthur babbled, hands shaking as he pushed on the wound to the right side of Merlin's abdomen. "He was going to run me through – my back was turned – when Merlin just jumped in from of me, shouting, and he – he - " Arthur's voice quivered.  
Merlin was still on the patient cot, bright red blood blanching his skin. Gaius stared at the boy, his nephew, his son, and wanted to do nothing more than to collapse onto the cot himself and adopt the wound in his stead.  
Gaius suddenly looked much older. Time did not slow, but Gaius did, attempting to compose himself before examining his patient. His patient, not his son. "Did the blade go all," he coughed, "all the way through?"  
Arthur thought superficially, his mind still scattered and terrified. "I – I don't – "  
"It did, sire," Leon interjected quietly. "I saw."  
Gaius closed his eyes, compression his emotions. Merlin needs a physician, not a mother sobbing over the state of his shirt, Gaius chastised himself, shaking his head. "Right. Then we'll be needing these bandages cleaned, and more brought up. I assume you lot can do this?" Gaius addressed the knights. Looking relieved at the possibility of escape, they nodded fervently and came to collect the bloody cloths. "Leon, if you could fetch the Lady Morgana's maidservant, Guinevere? She will prove invaluable."  
"Of course, Gaius," Leon nodded, and ducked out.  
"I did – I did all I could, Gaius," Arthur said. "Merlin's usually the one to do this sort of thing, but I remember what you said about, ehm, keeping pressure on the wounds and, er, trying not to – not to let him – you know – fall asleep. I couldn't figure out how to get him to – "  
"Arthur."  
The prince's jaw promptly slammed shut. Gaius gave him a minute of poignant privacy for Arthur to compose himself, while Gaius stoppered the bleeding wound over his ward's side.  
When Arthur spoke it was unaccompanied by the wobble of uncertainty and doubt. Instead it was bolstered with the steel of fear and determination, and the prince said only four words.  
"How can I help."  
The prince, the physician, and the chambermaid, when she arrived, eventually stopped the flow of blood, working to keep the man's body from going into shock. Despite the dire quality of his humors (1) and the deepness of his wound, Merlin survived. Gwen called it a miracle; Arthur called it a lesson ("to never let the idiot out of his chambers again!"), but Gaius knew his survival could be owed only to Merlin's own magic, which kept him alive until Gaius could do it properly. (2) Even now, nigh on a month later, his magic was still designated to keeping him functioning, for a wound of such severity would typically require twice as long to heal.

"I'm sorry, Gaius," Merlin said. "I'm just so . . . bored."  
"You've returned to work," Gaius reminded him.  
"Yes, but Arthur won't allow me to do much past picking up a goblet. He won't even let me pick up his armour! He carried it to training yesterday, and allowed me only the helmet!"  
"Well, Merlin, I never thought I'd see the day. So eager to work! Remind me of this occasion the next time you skimp your duties to drown your salary in ale," Arthur drawled, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed in amusement. Whereas Merlin once might have frozen with surprise, he now instead preferred to transfer his glare from the candlestick to the crown prince.  
"Prat."  
Gaius simply sighed.  
"Come on, Merlin, we've been summoned," Arthur announced, moving as though to offer the man a hand. He changed his mind halfway through the motion.  
"We? Or you?"  
"Me, of course. Who would summon you?"  
"Who would summon you? Arthur, half of the castle is asleep."  
"And the other half has just been summoned to the throne room. Prince Urion of Anglia has arrived."

FOOTNOTES:  
1\. Just some ancient medical history. Before the Scientific Revolution in the mid-sixteenth century, doctors believed that the body was composed of types of what they called humors, and an unbalance was what led to sickness. Blood was thought to be one humor. This was established long before modern medicine came into play.  
2\. This concept was inspired by the wonderful BeyondTheStorm's Healing Spells.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter OC Prince Urion of Anglia, bringing diplomats and trouble.

Previously:

_"Come on, Merlin, we've been summoned," Arthur announced._

_"Who would summon you? Arthur, half of the castle is asleep."_

_"And the other half has just been summoned to the throne room. Prince Urion of Anglia has arrived."_

* * *

"I still don't understand why it is necessary to wake half the cast at such an ungodly hour of the night," Merlin said.

"Technically you were never asleep, therefore not woken," Arthur corrected him, striding through the long hallways of Camelot. Merlin hopped a bit to catch up.

"I'm serious, Arthur," Merlin said, rubbing the sleep - or lack thereof - from his eyes. "What is happening?"

"What's happening, Merlin, is that Uther is doubling his efforts to find potential suitors for Morgana. My father wants a powerful political ally, as well as one who can be relied on to adequately care for Morgana, aid his war on magic, and secure a financial partner for Camelot."

"And how does Morgana feel about this?"

"Morgana will have some say in this," Arthur swatted at the younger man's arm. "The most likely scenario will probably be that my father will pick two or three suitors, pressure her to accept the other, and Morgana will naturally choose whoever suits her needs. That's how she is anyway."

Merlin grinned. "You sound resentful."

"Over what?" Arthur said stubbornly. "I'm not jealous, if that is what you're suggesting. I just want what's best for Camelot. And Morgana."

"Of course, Sire." Sarcasm oozed from his words.

" _Mer_ lin!"

"I didn't say anything," Merlin said innocently. "However, that still does not answer why you came barging into my quarters at the bane of time to disturb my sleep."

"Well, you can hardly expect them all to arrive at once. Our guests from Anglia did not anticipate the time it would take to travel to Camelot, and, despite that they were expected directly after supper, they have only just arrived. There was mention of bandits in Escentir. Now that they are here, however, it is tradition for the royal household to greet potential allies and suitors. I am the prince, and you are my manservant. Therefore." Arthur gestured around generally, indicating their current state of exhaustion and the lack of proper lighting.

"Anglia," Merlin mused. "That's the one bordering Mercia and Tir Mor, correct?"

"And Escentir. My father thought Anglia's water trade could be invaluable to Camelot, but we do not have good political footing, due to the location. Any news of Camelot that reaches them has been twisted by Bayard or Cenred."

"So Uther wants to get on better political and trading terms with Anglia, and that's why he invited . . . "

"Prince Urion."

“ . . . Prince Urion to interview as a potential suitor for Morgana," Merlin summarized. "All the same, that does not forgive his interruption of my sleep."

"No one cares, Merlin."

"Merlin cares!"

"Merlin does not count," Arthur dismissed, smirking as they approached the throne room. Merlin knew he could not retaliate so close to the king and foreign dignitaries, so instead shot Arthur a glare and an internal promise of revenge.

The doors to the throne room swung open grandly, and Arthur strode through the double doors.

The Hall was decorated with the finest drapery and decor in Camelot, the color and liveliness offsetting the dark, wooden gradient of the room. The men littering the room were similarly colorful, though less tastefully. Merlin slipped off, taking his place beside a small table adorned with wine and goblets. A few dozen men voiced enthused greetings to the crown price. However, it was only one that Arthur acknowledged.

"Good evening, Prince Urion," Arthur greeted.

"It is indeed," Urion said, smiling slightly.

Anglia was a kingdom bordering Albion's western coast, full of wealthy merchants under the king's thumb. The present king had never journeyed to Camelot himself – it was rumoured that the man was ill and weak of age, so travelling the distance was nigh on impossible – but was a cautious and wise king, difficult to anger and unlikely to involve himself in the conflicts of other kingdoms. He did not cow to the whims of other rulers, but thoroughly considered how any decision would influence his people. Anglia's wealth made it a kingdom draped in comfort and ease.

Urion was a surprisingly young suitor, particularly in contrast with the vast majority Uther had invited in consideration. Urion had a strongly constructed face; his chin was sharp, his eyes dark and narrow, cheekbones high, and skin tight. There was some feature about Urion, however, that painted him to be a likable enough character, if not exuberantly merry.

"How is your father?" Arthur asked, nodding to Merlin. The manservant supplied both princes with well-aged wine, ordered to the kitchens by Uther himself.

"Quite well, thank you," Urion accepted the glass from Merlin without any acknowledgment. "I would ask about yours, but as he and I have already spoken that hardly seems necessary."

They both laughed, if a bit uncomfortably.

"I trust your journey went well?"

"There was a spot of conflict in the forest of Essentir, but it was no issue. It was a bit difficult to manage without a servant, however."

"Oh, have you not brought any help with you?" Arthur was surprised, as most ambassadors traveled with a minimum of three slaves or servants.

"I travelled with only a small group as to be less conspicuous to bandits. Clearly, it did not work," Urion joked.

"You would be assigned a servant as quickly as possible, though they are in heavy demand due to the business of the castle. I am sure that we will find one well-suited to your needs."

Urion nodded. "Thank you very much, Prince Arthur. Although, if I may be presumptuous, I would prefer to select my own. My father always said, 'servants are the backbone of a nation, and therefore must be chosen with great caution.'"

Merlin held back a snort.

"Sound advice," Arthur said. "Not quite applicable to my own, though."

"Your manservant?" asked Urion.

"Yes, he's, ehm. Merlin has been working for me for less than a year now." Somehow, Arthur made this a derogatory statement, despite the fact that the longest record as the prince's manservant (excluding Merlin) had been fifteen days. Urion, though, took this news pleasantly.

"Is he skilled?"

Arthur looked uncomfortable. "He's functional, at times – "

"In that case," Urion said, "would it be quite alright for me to borrow him for the duration of my stay? After all, there would be no one more aware of the castle's goings-on than manservant to the prince himself."

Arthur was, almost for the first time, speechless. "I'm not quite sure – he was injured less than –"

"Oh, no worries. It would not be incredibly strenuous work. Choosing clothes, preparing baths, escorting me through the castle, that sort of thing," Urion said swiftly. "I would simply like to have an ear in Camelot."

Arthur smiled tightly. "Then it's quite a large ear you will get. Merlin, come here. This is Prince Urion of Anglia, and you will be serving him during his time here."

Merlin took the stance of a submissive servant, bowing slightly. Urion appraised him with approval. The pair agreed – without Merlin's input, naturally – that his services would not be necessary until the following morning. Merlin would tend to Arthur in the evenings. This ended this conversation, inviting a number of other nobles to come forward to introduce themselves.

Arthur tugged minutely on Merlin's sleeve. Quietly, the slipped out of the conversation, retreating to the corridor. The prince set a brisk pace toward Gaius's chambers, forcing Merlin to try to catch up.

"I do not like that man," Arthur said, stalking off angrily.

Merlin was surprised. After all, Arthur rarely spoke ill of the royal guests of the castle without spending a painful amount of time with them. "Why not? He seemed like any other arrogant, assuming royal to me."

"There's just something about him," Arthur said. "I don't like it."

"You're just annoyed that you're out of a servant for an unknown amount of time," Merlin grinned.

Arthur halted suddenly, whirling around. "Listen to me, Merlin: I want you to be careful around that man. Alright? Be quiet, be fast, be anything but your normal self," he waved his hands about with agitation. Something about Urion made Arthur's skin crawl with distrust, and he knew that his instincts were very seldom wrong. "I want you to report to me every evening, even if it's long past dark, and tell me what he's been doing during the day. If anything happens, come to me. You answer to me first, Merlin. Do not tell anything to Urion that you wouldn't tell to a stranger in the street."

Merlin nodded seriously. "Yes sire."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting moving now! Leave comments and/or kudos to let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to reference when this story takes place in the series. I envision it in some limbo mid-season-2 grey area, where Morgana knows about her magic but hasn’t been corrupted by Morgause yet. So anytime between The Nightmare Begins and Sins of the Father. Place it as you’d like.

Previously:  
"Listen to me, Merlin: I want you to be careful around that man. Alright? I want you to report to me every evening and tell me what he's been doing during the day. If anything happens, come to me. You answer to me first, Merlin. Do not tell anything to Urion that you wouldn't tell to a stranger in the street."  
Merlin nodded seriously. "Yes sire."  
\-------------------------------------------------------  
“Merlin,” Arthur growled, eyes flashing open. “If you - “  
“Good afternoon, Sire. I trust you slept well?” George said, enjoyment seeping out of his voice. Panic jumped into the Prince’s throat. No. Anyone but George.  
“I have brought up the finest meal from the kitchen this morning - fresh fruits, meats, and a number of different pastries for you to enjoy,” the servant said with pride. He bustled around the room, displaying the impressive meal set beside Arthur’s desk.  
“Prince Kender also gifted the King with a drink - I believe he called it ‘coffee?’ I imagine you will be quite pleased at the result. Very invigorating. I have brought along juice as well, in the event that the coffee is displeasing. I have also mucked your stables, laundered your clothes, and confirmed today’s activities for you, which include . . . “  
Arthur rolled over with a groan, smothering himself with a pillow. He choked on the feathers.

\-------------------------------------------------------

“Good morning, Prince Urion,” Merlin said quietly, gently laying down a large spread of food. Merlin knew how Arthur took his early morning meal - strong meat and pastries, primarily, and occasionally Merlin could goad him into indulging in a fruit or two. He knew the Prince’s morning routine better than his own, and this worked to his advantage with Arthur. With Urion, though, Merlin knew nothing. Questions of methods and preference were key to any servant’s proper serving of anyone and in this, Merlin was at a distinct disadvantage.  
Luckily, though, the prince met him already awake and dressed. Urion took a seat at the table, greeting him. “Ah, good morning. And your name is . . . ?” Urion asked with a pleasant, if tight, smile.  
“Merlin, sire, at your service.”  
“Yes, the Prince’s personal manservant. Good to meet you,” Urion greeted him, a glint ruining the respectful words. Merlin bowed, indicating the food on the table.  
Merlin was suddenly struck with unease. Am I late? There is no replacing a first impression, after all, and unpunctuality is quite the wrong way to begin any employment. Merlin would know. He’s late just about every day, but that’s with Arthur so it doesn’t count. “I apologize if I was tardy, sire, I was told to meet you a candlemark after dawn this morning. Would you prefer I wake you earlier?”  
“No, no, it’s quite alright,” Urion waved his concern off. “I couldn't fall asleep.”  
There was a moment of silence as Merlin carefully poured a glass of water for the Prince. He had never done well in silence, however, and timidly offered, “I can request a new room or bed for you - “  
“There is no need. I was merely unable to sleep away from Anglia.”  
“I could, ehm, perhaps ask for new decor, with a closer likeness to Anglian cultu - “  
“It’s not the accommodations, Merlin,” Urion said sharply. Merlin froze, his hands twitching over the plate he was prepared to grasp. The air levitated for a minute, before Urion relaxed with a tense huff of laughter. Merlin’s shoulders fell, but tension remained in his back.  
“I apologize for frightening you, Merlin. I simply mean to say - it’s no problem. Please excuse me.”  
“Of course, sire,” Merlin murmured.  
Urion twitched at this, unhappily plucking at his plate. Merlin stared at it from the corner of his eye, hoping to entice him with sheer willpower.  
Urion sighed, grudgingly taking a bite of the meat. Merlin made a mental note. Well-done sausage with seasoning. No interest in the ham.  
“So how did you come to work for Prince Arthur, Merlin?” Urion asked pleasantly. Merlin began tidying up the bed, tucking in the bedspread.  
“I, ehm, actually was supposed to be assistant to the court physician. He is my uncle,” Merlin said. “However, I saved Arth - the prince’s life, and the king rewarded me with a position in the royal household.”  
“How intriguing,” Urion said blandly. “So you are not able to study medicine?”  
“Oh no, sire, I do study under my ward. I maintain both positions."  
“Quite an impressive feat, Merlin. Congratulations.”  
Merlin rolled his eyes behind Urion’s back. “Thank you, sire. It is an honor.” The sarcasm, of course, was deeply hidden.  
“I do not doubt it. In Anglia, the only people treated better than royal servants are royals themselves.”  
Merlin raised an eyebrow, back still turned as he arranged the pillows. “That does sound spectacular.”  
“It is quite. There is no place even remotely similar,” Urion sounded almost prideful at this, as though the observation was the highest form of compliment.  
“Yes, sire.”  
As Urion nibbled a bit of seasoned bread (grain with brown sugar and the slightest hint of oil), he asked innocently, “I believe the prince mentioned that you were injured recently, Merlin. How so?”  
Merlin was beginning to understand Arthur’s instinctive distaste of Urion. It was in the way he proposed a question, as though he was preparing to arm himself with the knowledge that could bring down a man. The way he pushed to learn anything he could make use of, the gleam in his eyes, which darkened with displeasure at the sight of Camelot.  
There’s just something about him. I don’t like it.  
Merlin plastered a smile onto his face. “Just routine servant issues, sire. Nothing of importance,” he said loftily. Merlin’s hand twitched towards the bandages beneath his tunic.

\-------------------------------------------------------

Arthur and Merlin ran into each other a couple of times throughout the day. Merlin would likely have grinned at the disgruntled exhaustion on Arthur’s face if the day were not so hectic and painfully dull. George stood diligently behind Arthur but gently refused Arthur’s request after his sixth glass of wine, instead offering water. The glare from Arthur could curdle milk, and Merlin had to excuse himself to go cackle at the expression of horror on George’s face.  
The day primarily composed of discussions between the king and the princes of each realm. Urion was not wrong in his promise that Merlin’s serving work would be light - the only time he so much as picked up a jug was when the monarch tired of the dense, sloshy taste of wine and preferred pure water. With the drudgy conversation, however, this was rare.  
Finally, not long after the sun has sucked all of its light after it on the horizon, the royals rose from the long table with deep sighs of discomfort. Arthur levelled a loaded gaze onto Merlin - probably intended as a reminder to brief him that evening - and the room scattered.  
Merlin stumbled after the long strides of Prince Urion, who strode rigidly through the long hallways. “Sire,” Merlin panted, feeling his side twinge with discomfort.  
Urion drew back sharply. “Ah, Merlin. You know, I have quite forgotten about you. Do catch up. Attempt not to strain yourself.” Merlin tried to pretend he had not heard the underlying sarcasm in Urion’s statement.  
“I apologize, sire,” Merlin said nonetheless.  
“It is quite alright. I’m glad you announced yourself, I would enjoy another’s company.“ With a twitchy smile, Urion spun around. “Actually,” he caught sight of a short corridor and beckoned Merlin towards it, “I was curious about Camelot. You have worked here how long, exactly?”  
Merlin looked down the silent hall, the usual clacking of wooden shoes strangely missing from the bustling castle. “I, er - about a year. A bit less. Or more. I can’t really keep track.”  
Urion persisted, looking intently into Merlin’s face. “Then you have met the Lady Morgana?”  
Merlin met the narrow eyes of the Anglian prince. “I have indeed, sire. She is a force to be reckoned with.”  
Urion smiled. “I do not doubt it. It is said that she has turned away more suitors than the stables have horses.” Merlin simply nodded, unsure of how to respond. Urion prompted him, “Tell me more about her.”  
About Morgana? What is there to tell about Morgana? “She’s quite lovely. And she has, uh . . . fine hair?”  
This, apparently, was the wrong answer.  
“I don’t care about her appearance, Merlin,” Urion said impatiently. “Tell me about her. What does she like? What does she want?”  
“I, erm, don’t know. Mostly just kindness,” Merlin said confusedly. “She’s very complex. You’d have to ask her yourself.”  
Urion pondered this response for a moment before nodding. He straightened, taking a step back, and Merlin let out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been keeping. The air relaxed. “Very well. I can prepare myself for bed tonight, Merlin. Escort me to my chambers and then you are released for the night.”  
“Thank you, Prince Urion,” Merlin said, surprised.  
Urion simply nodded in acceptance and followed Merlin to his large chambers, which overlooked the courtyard. “You are sure that you do not need my help, sire? It is no issue.”  
“I can manage on my own, Merlin,” Urion said pointedly. “I have to write to the Anglian court, anyway. Enjoy your night off.”  
Merlin bowed. “Good night, sire.”  
And with that, he left for Arthur’s chambers. The odds that the Prince would actually be there were slim; after a long day of sitting, Arthur would certainly not be likely to spend the last few hours of light sitting at a desk or in a bed. Hence, Merlin decided against stopping by Arthur’s bedchambers and went to check the training grounds to find Arthur.  
Lo and behold, Merlin found a solitary figure battering away at a training mannequin. (George, of course, stood not far off, uncomfortably defensive and shield half-raised. Merlin just barely resisted jumping out at him.)  
“Oi, dollop-head!” Merlin called, watching with satisfaction as Arthur went wide on his next parry. The prince whirled around with irritation, his sword threatening to sail from his grip and he glared at Merlin.  
“Isn’t there some other royal you’re supposed to be bothering?”  
“I got off early.”  
“And I was so hoping to be without your company for a few more hours. It has been much more relaxing, hasn’t it George?”  
“Indeed, sire!” George said enthusiastically. “I have not had such fine occasions for my needlepoint jokes in ages.”  
“Yes,” Arthur said. “It has been quite exhilarating.”  
“Sounds it,” Merlin smirked.  
Arthur glared at the smugness on Merlin’s face before dismissing George. “That’ll be all for tonight.”  
“Then I shall see you bright and early tomorrow, sire, armed with an armada of new jokes for your enjoyment,” George cried, collecting the loose weapons and hauling them into the armory.  
Arthur sighed. “I look forward to it.”  
“It sounds like you had a fantastic day, sire,” Merlin grinned. “Miss me already?”  
“Miss you?” Arthur said doubtfully. “Never. You have no idea how efficiency has affected me.”  
“Efficiency . . . and boredom.”  
“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. He took the stance to continue his charge against the training dummy, ignoring Merlin entirely.  
“Don’t you want to know about Prince Urion?”  
“Do try to say that a bit louder, Merlin, I don’t think the village by Gedref has quite heard you yet,” Arthur said irritably. He playfully went to jibe Merlin in the side, forgetting the slow-healing wound on the servant’s side.  
Merlin gasped, feeling pain explode over his torso as color erupted before his eyes. Merlin barely heard Arthur curse over the sound of blood rushing from his face. Throwing his sword down, the prince carefully helped the raven-haired man to the bench, ignoring Merlin’s breathless assurances.  
“The stitches didn’t open,” Arthur murmured. Merlin glared, still struggling to breath past the surges of electric pain running through his torso.  
“Of course not,” Merlin gasped. “Have you ever seen Gaius stitch? A horse couldn’t tear them apart. I'm alright, Arthur.”  
“Nonetheless, let’s head back to the castle. It’s impossible to get anything done with you around, anyway.”  
“Your concern is truly touching, sire, thank you.”  
“It’s a gift,” Arthur agreed. “Morgana’s chambers are on the way to mine. Can you make it there on your own or do you need me to carry you like a swooning maiden?”  
“I can make it,” Merlin said. “Just keep your ‘maiden’ jokes coming when we get to Morgana’s chambers. You know how she loves them.”  
Arthur snorted, shaking his head. “Come, Merlin.”  
The pair went off, Arthur supporting Merlin’s weight (against his request). The wound was quieting from a roar to merely a low hum of ever-shifting pain. “Morgana’s chambers are just up here,” Arthur muttered, and Merlin nodded. He could hear indistinctive voices coming from the direction of Morgana’s chambers and smiled, hoping to get the chance to catch up with Guinevere. Morgana’s laugh twittered down the long halls.  
Arthur rounded the corner first and froze, immediately whirling around and pushing Merlin in the direction they came. “Back, back!” He hissed. They ducked back behind the wall and Merlin risked a glance into the hallway. It wasn’t Gwen that the king’s ward was laughing with.  
“Urion?” Merlin gasped.


	4. Chapter Four

Previously:  
Arthur rounded the corner to Morgana’s chambers first and froze, immediately whirling around and pushing Merlin in the direction they came. “Back, back!” He hissed. They ducked back behind the wall and Merlin risked a glance into the hallway. It wasn’t Gwen that the king’s ward was laughing with.  
\------------------------------------------------------------  
“Urion?” Merlin gasped.  
Arthur shushed him loudly. “Why is he here? Is that what you were going to tell me earlier?”  
“No, he told me he was going to stay in and write correspondence. I didn’t know - “  
“Okay, well that doesn’t matter right now. What’s he saying?”  
“Well I could listen if - “  
“Merlin - “  
“You weren’t - “  
“Idiot, just stop whining so I can hear!”  
They both stopped talking and turned their attention back to Morgana’s rooms. She was frowning at Urion, saying, “ - should have a servant with you to show you around. It’s not like Merlin to - “  
“No, no,” Urion laughed, “I let him go for the night. It looked like his injury was hurting and I was looking to explore the castle. It’s a miracle that I wandered across your chambers or I would never have been able to find mine!”  
Merlin caught Arthur’s eyes and shook his head.  
“That’s very kind of you to care for Merlin.”  
“Oh, it’s nothing, I assure you. In Anglia, the royal servants are almost as well-cared-for as the court is. You should come and visit,” Urion said, eye glinting. “You would love it.”  
“I’m sure. It sounds wonderful,” Morgana said, pulling her robe further over the sleeping gown. Urion noticed.  
“Oh! I am sorry for waking you so late. Like I said, the door was open and I was lost but - you must be tired. I should leave you be.”  
Morgana smiled. “Don’t worry, I am fine. Just glad Gwen forgot to close the door so I could help you back to your chambers. Would you like some tea?”  
“Are you sure I would not be intruding? It is quite late and I’m sure you would like your sleep.” Urion frowned. Morgana waved him off. “Nonsense, I’ve slept plenty. Come right in. One of the other suitors brought this beautiful ceramic teapot . . . “  
Merlin’s vise-like grasp on Arthur’s wrist was the only thing that kept him from hurtling into Morgana’s rooms after them.  
“Don’t!” Merlin said. “If you go in there now it would look suspicious on our part. It’s - Gwen! Guinevere!”  
These whispered shouts were directed at the serving girl at the other end of the hallway. Just before she reached out for the door, one hand delicately balancing a tray of food, Arthur caught her eye.  
“Arthur?” Gwen whispered. The prince in question frantically signalled for her to join them. With a glance at the half-open door, Gwen’s brows furrowed and she scuttled to join the two.  
“What is going on?” Gwen asked.  
“Gwen, listen to me. Prince Urion is in there with Morgana right now and we need you to go in there and get him out,” Arthur said urgently.  
“What? Why is - “  
“Gwen,” Merlin interrupted. “When you left Morgana’s chambers earlier, did you leave the door open by accident?”  
“Absolutely not!” Gwen looked scandalized. “With all that’s been happening in the castle recently? No, I always close the door and lock it behind me. Lady Morgana can unlock it from the inside, but there are only two keys to that door. One is with Uther and the other,” she patted a pocket and a muffled ting of metal sounded, “is right here.”  
Arthur exhaled carefully. “This is bad.”  
Merlin nodded. “Alright, this is what we are going to do. Gwen, can you please help us and the Lady Morgana by delivering her food and then perhaps offering to walk Urion back to his chambers? Morgana might make a fuss but just tell her she has breakfast with Uther or a meeting with the council or anything, just don’t let her stop you from walking him back. Are you willing to do that?”  
Gwen nodded. “Of course.”  
“Great. Arthur, check on Morgana and catch her up with whole Urion thing. She’s not going to like it but she needs to know our concerns so she’s on guard. I have to go to Urion’s rooms and look through his things. I don’t know how he managed to open the door without a key but maybe I can find something about it there.”  
“Merlin, I’m not sure - “ Arthur started, frowning.  
“I’ll be fine,” Merlin waved off his concerns. “It will be very fast and Gwen can talk loudly to Urion and give me a warning when he’s nearby so I can get out in time. But I have a reason to be in Urion’s chamber. You need to talk to Morgana because she trusts you more than me, even if she doesn’t act like it.” That last part was a low blow, piquing Arthur’s ego, but Merlin knew what he was looking for in Urion’s chambers and Arthur could not have been able to recognize it.  
Arthur nodded, looking disgruntled. “If there are any issues you’ll never be allowed to leave your room again.”  
Merlin grinned. “You sound just like Gaius! All you need is a beard and a few more years and you’ll be right there.”  
“Are you calling me old, Merlin?”  
“Well the shoe fits, even if the belt doesn’t.”  
“I’ll have you know - “ Arthur started. Gwen cleared her throat.  
“Excuse me? Potentially evil suitor in the King’s Ward’s private chambers? Any of this ringing a bell?”  
“Right,” Arthur said. “Good point. Merlin, get going. We’ll hold him up here as long as possible but we need to get him out of there.”  
Merlin nodded. “I’ll be there and back faster than you can miss me.”  
“I’m sure that won’t be happening any time soon,” Arthur muttered.  
\-----------------------  
For someone who carried his own belongings, Merlin thought grumpily, Prince Urion has a ridiculous amount of stuff. There were three full chests bearing the Anglian crest and a full wardrobe of clothing that Urion brought with him. Merlin began with the trunks, figuring that most magical memorabilia would be stashed in the bottom and well-hidden. Carefully, Merlin dug through the first box, cursing his lack of magic. He emptied the first chest and then arranged its contents - mostly books on Camelot culture and society, the Great Purge, and other major historical events - exactly as they were placed before. A folded piece of parchment slipped out of the History of Dragons in Camelot. Unfolding it, Merlin saw that it was a complete map of Camelot’s castle, labelled with each room’s occupants. “Lost, huh?” he muttered, tracing the name of ‘Morgan Le Fay.’ The map was returned and the trunk closed.  
The second chest was full of miscellaneous items, ranging from ceremonial orbs to a dozen or so beautifully sculpted statues of a castle on the cliffside. These were only the height of a hand and Merlin brushed them aside as gifts for other dignitaries. Seemingly random herbs in vials were scattered throughout the trunk. A crystal bowl was seated upside-down on the bottom of the chest, covering a leather bag. It was a scrying bowl, with runes of the Old Religion beautifully carved on the basin. Merlin’s heart plummeted. Gaius had tried teaching him scrying once, years ago, but Merlin was not able to adequately focus his magic into it. It is a difficult form of magic that requires much practice and skill; a scrying bowl’s presence in Urion’s chambers offered Merlin a glimpse of Urion’s magical skill.  
Next, Merlin turned to the bag. Something hard dug into Merlin’s palm from inside and he hissed, opening the bag and pulling out the irregularly shaped item. It was hard and wrapped in heavy velvet. A deep sense of foreboding settled heavily into his chest as he peeled back the cover and  
a trembling Geoffrey crowning Prince Urion, Morgana glaring at the Prince from her throne. Urion laughing -- Anglian soldiers cutting down Camelot citizens and knights -- Arthur, genuine, “I trust you to protect Camelot from magic, Merlin, you’re the only one I can trust with -- ” Arthur dead, how -- the stone wall exploding, revealing -- Urion, eyes burning gold, a bloody sword -- Morgana’s scream and the castle collaps  
Merlin gasped, terror and nausea fighting for control. He came to on his hands and knees, the dropped crystal glinting cheekily at the disabled warlock as he gasped for breath. His magic dissolved from where it had stood at attention in his veins and suffocated him, screaming for freedom with the crystal. But there was something else.  
“Gwen!” he realizes. Yes indeed; that was her voice coming down the hall, nearly shouting to reach the small corner of Merlin’s brain that the crystal left untouched. Merlin threw everything back in the chest, and ran to the door, ignoring the twinge in his side. He glanced into the hallway and caught Gwen’s eye. Distract him! He mouthed desperately.  
“Oh, Prince Urion!” Gwen said loudly. “Have I told you the history of this painting here? It’s called The Drowning of the Witches. Beautiful, don’t you think? It was a gift from a travelling merchant, the guest of honor at a great banquet many years ago. . . . “  
While Gwen kept Urion’s eyes focused on the painting behind them, Merlin carefully snuck back into the hall and squeezed into a tiny alcove a few steps away from the door. It was not ideal, certainly. Urion would easily spot him if his eyes roamed in Merlin’s direction, but Merlin would never be able to make it to the end of the hall in time.  
“ - and when Uther saw the merchant painting at dinner, he told the serving staff - including myself - to arrange the room like a concert hall, so everyone could see the artist - “ Gwen babbled.  
“Thank you,” Urion snapped, jaw tight. “I appreciate you walking me back to my chambers, but I really must go to bed now.”  
“Oh!” Gwen said, laughing nervously. “Yes, of course. Well, if you need anything do not hesitate to ask! The serving staff is thrilled to help in any way!” Urion nodded in response. Spinning around, the Prince swung angrily into his chambers, path and focus solely on his chambers. The doors slammed behind him.  
Keeping step with Gwen’s rapid footsteps, Merlin slunk away from the Prince’s chambers, hands still shaking. Merlin’s eyes met Gwen’s. "We have a problem," he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys are awesome! Thank you so much for the reviews, as they let me know how you all are responding to the story. Some of you are already really close - but not quite there - to some of the later plot points, but I won’t spoil too much for you now. I’ll just say I think you all will like where the story is going. . . . Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! The gang makes bold moves and Merlin has some startling discoveries. Also, I will try to include any possible TWs in the author’s notes before each chapter, but if any possibly triggering events occur in a chapter PLEASE leave me a comment or shoot me a PM so I can include it in my notes beforehand. This story means a lot to me, and it would break my heart to possibly hurt a reader through my neglect as an author. (You’re also welcome to warn me about typos or anything else that comes up. All of my work is unbetaed so I miss quite a lot.)  
> Without any further ado, enjoy! Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Hello! This story has been in the works for quite a while now, but I recently took it back up and began working on it seriously. It was inspired by an early episode of Reign, but since has taken off on its own! According to my outline, it should be about ten chapters long, and takes place in some limbo mid-season-2 grey area, where Morgana knows about her magic but hasn’t been corrupted by Morgause yet. So anytime between The Nightmare Begins and Sins of the Father. Place it as you’d like. I update a new chapter every time I finish the next two - for example, I'll post chapter 3 as soon as I finish writing chapter 5. Expect the next chapter in a week or so. This story is is crossposted on FF as well.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Please review and leave kudos!


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